


My Bodyguard

by andyisadreamer



Category: My Engineer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, F/M, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Multiple Pairings, POV Alternating, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:09:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24463297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andyisadreamer/pseuds/andyisadreamer
Summary: King woke up surrounded by fifty of his closest friends and one heavily tattooed stranger.His fifty friends were all small, green and leafy, and totally incapable of calling for help, so King was forced to fend for himself. He opened his mouth to scream. Strong fingers gripped him across the mouth.'Oh no', King thought, 'he’s going to get my blood all over the succulents'.
Comments: 9
Kudos: 81





	1. The New Bodyguard (RamKing)

**Author's Note:**

> I think it will be very obvious, but:
> 
> 1\. I am not Thai, nor do I know anything about Thailand and its culture.  
> 2\. I do not live in a country that has age-related respect culture or honourifics, and therefore do not really know how they work.  
> 3\. I have never read the novelisation of My Engineer and therefore have no insider information as to how the story pans out. 
> 
> Also, each chapter will alternate POV between the different couples. I will indicate in the chapter title which couple is the focus for each chapter.

King woke up surrounded by fifty of his closest friends and one heavily tattooed stranger. His fifty friends were all small, green and leafy, and totally incapable of calling for help, so King was forced to fend for himself. He opened his mouth to scream. Strong fingers gripped him across the mouth.

 _Oh no_ , King thought, _he’s going to get my blood all over the succulents._

“King, meet Ram.”

 _Strange_ , thought King. _Why is my father assisting in my murder?_

Blinking the sleep out of his eyes, King looked up into the face of his attacker. His dark eyes were unsettlingly close. The man leaned away, gingerly removing his fingers from King’s face.

King’s father was standing in the doorway, tapping at his phone with unnecessary force.

“Uh, father?” King tried to be subtle as he brought the covers up, over his bare nipples. “Why is there a man with a neck tattoo in my bedroom?”

“I told you I was hiring you a new bodyguard.”

King pouted, eyeing up the stranger. He looked quite short for a bodyguard, although his grip had certainly been strong enough.

“What was wrong with the old one?”

His father snorted. “Asking your best friend to occasionally drive you to and from University is not the same as hiring a professional bodyguard.”

King’s pout deepened. “That’s not fair! Are you forgetting the time Bohn selflessly threw himself at the mercy of that gold-digger who was after our family fortune? Thanks to him, my dowry is still intact.”

King’s father finally looked up from his phone. King cowered back against his pillows.

“Ram, he’s all yours. God help you.”

The bodyguard – Ram – remained perfectly still. He hadn’t moved once since he had silenced King from screaming. The closer King looked, the more interesting he became. His neat black hair, rigid, upright posture and serious demeanor screamed ex-military. However, the tattoo on his neck was delicate, pretty. There were more lines of black ink peeking out from the loose collar of his white button-down. He wasn’t wearing a suit jacket or tie. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to the elbow, revealing a third tattoo on his right forearm. That was when King realised that he had not once heard this man speak.

“Your name is Ram?”

The man’s eyes slanted towards him.

King suddenly remembered that he wasn’t wearing any clothes. “Do you mind waiting outside while I change?”

Ram hesitated a moment, before exiting through the same door as King’s father and shutting it behind him.

King sprang out of bed. He greeted the succulents first, apologizing for almost being brutally murdered in front of them. Then he checked the orchids. After a fifteen-minute conversation with a pair of plants in a hanging basket, he finally moved to his closet to get dressed.

University was something of a formality for the son of one of Thailand’s most successful businessmen. King had only applied because Bohn had dared him to. Then he had discovered how fun studying could be, and how effortlessly good he was at it, and decided to stick with it for a while.

A vine swung down from one of the hanging baskets, brushing against King’s cheek as he inspected himself in the floor-to-ceiling bathroom mirror. Then he heard the faint trill of his phone from the bedroom.

“Thank you, my darling,” he said, nuzzling his face against the vine.

King found his phone buried beneath the duvet on his bed. “Hello?”

“King, I’m getting married.”

“And you want me to be your maid of honour? I accept.”

Bohn let out a frustrated huff. “I’m _serious_. I’ve just met the love of my life.”

“You met the love of your life when you were six years old. And we’ve been very happy together ever since.”

“King, will you just meet me at the usual place? Boss is too busy flirting with his bodyguard to give me advice.”

_“Hey!”_

King frowned. “Uh, speaking of…”

“Why are we still having this conversation?” Bohn snapped. “I’ll see you in ten minutes.”

The dial tone hit King’s ear. He lowered his phone, eyeing the closed bedroom door. Pulling on his blue engineer’s shirt, pen safely tucked in the sleeve, he pushed his way out into the corridor.

King’s father’s house was a modern-day mansion. Whole walls were made of glass and there were plants climbing every staircase. It was light, bright and open. Perhaps a bit too large now that his sister had got married and moved out.

Ram was waiting at the foot of the stairs. He turned to look at King as he descended the stairs.

King fluttered his eyelashes. “Are you about to take me to the prom, Nong Ram?”

Ram’s eyes narrowed, but the look on his face said that King had guessed correctly. His new bodyguard was even younger than he'd thought.

“Come on,” King said, shrugging on his shoulder bag. “If you're good I might even let you drive.”

***

Ram stared blankly at the bicycle. King patted the space behind the seat, grinning. This, Ram thought, was going to be his most difficult assignment yet.

“I don’t own a car,” King said, the patting growing more deliberate. “It’s this or the bus.”

Ram climbed reluctantly onto the bike, gripping the back of the seat with white knuckles.

King looked back at him. “Is that a gun in your pocket?”

Ram nodded.

“I’m sorry, there are no weapons allowed on board this vehicle. That includes these guns as well.” King squeezed his bicep appreciatively.

Ram glared.

“Off we go!” King cried cheerfully, wobbling a little before his pedaling picked up a steady rhythm.

The ride to campus was the worst twenty minutes of Ram’s life. His back and fingers ached from holding the same rigid posture for so long. His new charge was so busy studying him over his shoulder that he nearly rode them into a tree three separate times. Then a group of schoolgirls started chasing them down the street, screaming in such a frenzied way that Ram almost reached for his weapon.

“That was fun!” King enthused, as he tied his bike up at the rack. His hair looked silky and windswept. Ram hated him.

Ram followed his new charge through campus. To add insult to injury, this was the same University that Ram had been enrolled in before…

“There you are!” A young man with thick thighs and a permanent scowl marched towards them. “What took you so long?”

Ram moved in between King and this man. The man stepped back, stunned. It was like he hadn’t even noticed Ram was there at all.

“Bohn, meet my new bodyguard,” King said. “You’ve been replaced.”

Bohn barely gave Ram a glance. “We don’t have time for introductions. My future husband is out there as we speak!”

Ram studied the man more closely. Bohn looked like every bully who had ever tortured Ram for the way he used to stare, starry-eyed, at the boy who sat next to him in English class. He had since been trained not to make snap-judgements about people, to assess with intuition and not bias, and to follow his instincts. Bohn, however, had managed to throw him.

King didn’t look surprised. The corner of his mouth twitched up fondly and, after a moment, he slung his arm across Bohn’s shoulders and led him back to his table, where another young man was lounging across the bench. A familiar face greeted Ram, standing stoically behind this stranger. 

Mek and Ram had been trained by the Academy at different times but had worked together on a handful of assignments since. Ram felt comfortable in the older man’s presence because he was a quiet soul himself and Mek never tried to force a conversation unless it was truly necessary. Between them, they had developed a series of silent signals to limit the amount of words they would be forced to speak to each other out loud.

Bohn slumped down, next to Mek’s charge. King sat opposite them, sweeping the hair out of his eyes. Ram noticed the charm bracelet glinting at his wrist. It had three charms: a pencil, a flower and a small, golden leaf. The effect against King’s slim, tanned wrist was striking.

“Husband, won’t you get me a soda?”

King laughed. “Have you lost your ability to walk, Boss?”

“No,” said Mek’s charge, checking his pockets, "just my wallet.”

Then Mek, to Ram’s immense surprise (although he didn’t show it), turned around and marched away, hand already slipping into the inner pocket of his jacket. 

“I knew there was a reason I married him,” Boss said, eyes trained suspiciously low on Mek’s body. Then he turned to look at King and Ram. “I see congratulations are in order.”

King smiled, glancing up at Ram. “This is Nong Ram. Father hired him.”

Bohn harrumphed.

“Many blessings!” Boss cheered, throwing a handful of shredded paper over King’s head.

King laughed, shaking his hair out.

Ram took a moment to surveil his surroundings. The courtyard they were in had multiple entry points, but everything was light and open. As long as he kept his head on a swivel, no one would be able to approach the table without him noticing. There were few other students in the area. Most were already at lunch. The only other big group was sat at the furthest table from them, dressed in suits and ties, and pouring over business management textbooks. Ram noted curiously that one of the students - a tall, lanky boy with wavy brown hair - kept shooting daggers at Bohn when the other wasn’t looking. His gaze seemed competitive than predatory or malicious, so Ram filed the boy’s face away for later. Perhaps Duen could run a background check on him.

Duen was another student of this University. He worked at the Bodyguard Academy after school to make extra money to buy his sister ice-cream and pretty hair clips. Ram had been the one to get him the job. Mainly so that he could keep an eye on him.

“Ah, my husband, thank you!”

Ram refocused back on the table as Mek returned, handing his charge a chilled can still dripping with condensation. Boss leapt to his feet, clinging to Mek’s arm, nuzzling him and making strange, animal-like chirping noises.

 _Is this how engineering students show gratitude?_ Ram thought, eyeing King suspiciously. 

King checked his phone, before starting to gather up his books. “Come on. Time for class.” He glanced over his shoulder as he stood up. “You can go get something to eat, if you like.”

Ram stayed where he was.

King tilted his head thoughtfully.

“But what about my future husband?” Bohn whined, cutting into the space between them. His face was twisted in an ugly pout.

King smiled, allowing Bohn to cling and complain to him all the way to class. Ram put on his sunglasses and followed three steps behind.


	2. Chapter 2: The Cute Secretary (BohnDuen)

Duen arrived at work three minutes early. He had arrived thirty minutes early the day before and had been locked out for twenty of them by his furious best friend.

“You could have spent that time studying,” Ram had said, blocking the door with crossed arms. He was clearly taking this bodyguard thing too seriously if it was starting to bleed over into his personal life.

Duen walked into the reception of the Bodyguard Academy and dropped his backpack and motorcycle helmet behind the front desk. His job was to answer phones and schedule bookings. Duen didn’t really need the job but had allowed Ram to find him one anyway. Mainly so that he could keep an eye on him.

“Where have you been?” Ram demanded, materializing suddenly beside his desk.

Duen jumped, throwing a stack of important documents over his shoulder. An expense report slapped Ram in the chest before thumping gracelessly to the floor.

“I had something to do,” Duen said, pulling on the sleeve of his shirt.

Ram’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Is that blood?”

“I fell off my motorcycle,” Duen explained with a sigh. “It’s really not a big deal.”

Ram took his arm gently, examining the dressing over his wound. His eyes were soft when they rose to meet Duen’s.

“I know, I know,” Duen said gently. “I’ll be more careful from now on.”

Ram released his arm.

“How was your first day with the new client?” Duen asked, as Ram bent to collect up the papers from the floor.

Ram’s shoulders stiffened slightly.

“That bad, huh?”

“Not…bad,” Ram said, although it looked like it caused him great effort.

Duen wondered who this client was that had garnered such high praise from his friend.

Ram nodded towards the door.

Duen waved him away. “Have fun!”

The door to the gym opened and closed. Duen caught a brief glimpse of naked, rippling muscle before the door swung shut again. He slumped in his seat.

Time and work moved slowly. Duen had two papers due by the end of the week. He also had another _unavoidable_ engagement that would take away from his time as well.

Duen closed his eyes, shaking his head slightly at the smirky, twisted grin that swam before his vision.

“Ah…excuse me?”

Duen looked up from the monitor of spreadsheets he’d been pouring over. A young man in a business management uniform stood reluctantly in the foyer. His hands were jammed so far in his pockets that he looked set to punch a hole right through them.

“Welcome to the Bodyguard Academy,” Duen recited cheerfully. “How may I help protect you today?”

The young man stared at him, slack jawed. He blinked a few times. Swallowed.

“Um, ah, am I able to…hire someone?”

“For yourself or for someone else?” Duen asked kindly.

“For someone else.”

Duen beckoned the young man closer. “You just need to fill out this form.” He handed over the clipboard and a pen. The young man’s hands shook as he took them.

Duen spent the next ten minutes trying not to get caught staring at the new client. He couldn’t help but think he had seen this student somewhere before.

“I’m done,” he said, sliding the clipboard and pen back across the counter.

“Well,” Duen glanced down, “ _P’Frong_. Someone will be in touch shortly to arrange a time to conduct the preliminary interview. Did you have any other questions for me today?”

Frong opened his mouth and then seemed to think better of it.

“Have a nice day,” Duen said, with his brightest customer service smile. Frong looked appropriately dazed as he staggered out the door.

Duen opened a new file to start inputting the client’s details and schedule an interview for later in the week. He frowned when he read the ‘details of protection’ section.

_I need someone to look after my mother while I’m at school and work. She’s sick._

***

Bohn was sick of people trying to rationalize his sexual fluidity. So, he liked a boy now? So, he’d exclusively liked women up until this point? So what? Traits like cuteness and kindness were not gender specific. He had a type and Duen fit it perfectly.

“Have you asked him out yet?” Boss asked, while Tee pretended to make out with himself behind Bohn’s back.

Bohn hit Tee in the side without looking, winding him, and scowled. “Have you consummated your marriage yet?”

Boss glanced back at his bodyguard. “Sadly, my mute husband is insisting that we take things slow.”

“Oh my god,” Tee said, slapping King, who was busy pouring over his textbooks, on the shoulder. “It's _happening_. Look! Look!”

Bohn looked over to see a small group of freshmen girls egging each other on to approach them. Tee straightened his shirt, while Boss attempting to check his teeth for food in the back of his spoon. Instead, all he saw reflected was Mek’s face, ballooned out and staring at him. He shrieked and dropped the spoon.

“S-Sawadee krab,” the first girl said, raising her hands politely. Her friends giggled around her.

Tee leapt to his feet. “Welcome, lovely ladies! Can I interest you in a beverage? Some snacks? My phone number?”

The same girl laughed nervously. “Ah, well…we were hoping to collect your autographs. F-For the freshers’ event.”

“Whose signature would you prefer?” Tee continued, sounding more and more like a ring announcer.

The girls very deliberately did not look at him. Bohn shook his head pityingly. 

“First, we have King…a handsome boy, but he has the terrible affliction of only being sexually attracted to beings who can photosynthesize.” 

King, who was busy studying, continued studying.

“Next to him is Boss and his mute husband, Mek.”

Boss made a noise of protest, making desperate grabby hands towards the girls. Mek pushed his hands down.

Bohn watched all of this in bored frustration. When would these girls leave? He was expecting a delivery any second now…

“What about…him?”

Bohn didn’t need to look up to know that the girl was pointing at him. She was pretty, he guessed, from the split-second he’d glanced at her. Long, shiny dark hair and…a face. There was only one face Bohn wanted to see and it was already twelve minutes late.

“Apologies, ladies, but Bohn here is recently off the market as of yesterday. But don’t worry! I, myself, am one hundred percent…aaaaand they’re gone.”

Tee dropped back down into his seat, chin resting dejectedly between his palms. 

King looked up, blinking. “Did somebody say something?”

Bohn rolled his eyes, trying not to let his frustration turn into anger. King’s bodyguard, whatever his name was, already watched him like he was a ticking time bomb. Being shot by a mixed-race bodyguard was certainly not going to make Duen fall in love with him. Blood was really not his colour.

“Let’s go,” Boss said, dragging Tee and King up by their elbows. “I want to get a good seat in class.”

“You mean at the back, so you can nap?”

Boss grinned. “Exactly!” He glanced over his shoulder to make sure that Mek was following. Bohn didn’t think he was in any danger there.

It was strange, being surrounded by bodyguards all the time. Bohn's family was well-off, but not wealthy enough to be kidnap or extortion material. Sometimes he pretended to be, to alleviate some of the burden from King’s shoulders. 

“Bohn?”

He stopped, watching his friends walk further and further into the distance. It had only been two days, but he would recognize that tone anywhere. Annoyed, apprehensive, a little bit awed (he hoped). 

Bohn turned around only to have a rose thrust unceremoniously up his nose.

“Day two,” Duen said, bracing himself.

Bohn took the rose with trembling fingers. Then he tried to play it off as a wave, because cool guys didn’t quiver when their crush brought them flowers.

Duen frowned. “Are you having a seizure? Should I call a doctor?”

Bohn attempted to salvage the situation by taking a delicate sniff of the rose. He wanted to look like a romantic hero, glancing at Duen alluringly from beneath his eyelashes.

“P’Thara? Yes, hello?” Duen held the phone to his ear. “I think someone is having an epilectic attack. How quickly can you get here from the hospital?”

Bohn snatched the phone from Duen’s hand and hung up. “What are you doing?”

Duen raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were going to die. Are you? I can call my doctor back if you are.”

Bohn slapped the phone back into his hand. “I’m _fine_.”

“If you say so,” Duen said, turning to leave.

“Where are you going?” Bohn panicked, grabbing his arm.

Duen swatted him away. “I’m going to take a nap. It took me four hours to find a flower shop nearby.”

_One flower every day._ That was the deal they had struck when Duen had run Bohn off the road with his motorcycle. Bohn had never been so impressed by his own quick thinking. Instead of asking for money to fix his car, he would get to see Duen _every day_. So what if he would have to walk to University from now on? 

“Come with me,” Bohn said, gripping Duen’s arm tighter.

Duen shook him off. “Where?”

“I have somewhere you can take a nap. You won’t be disturbed, I promise.”

“And why would I go anywhere with you?”

Bohn took a gamble. “Because I make your heart flutter?”

Duen snorted. “Try again.”

“Because I’ll buy you lunch afterwards?”

Duen grinned, the expression transforming his face. It was like an explosion of sunlight and rainbows. Like the clouds parting after a storm. Like a hot curry on a cold day.

“Okay!” Duen said. “But I get to pick the restaurant.”

Bohn had never been so happy in his life.

Then he felt a sharp pain in his left side. "Is this what love feels like?" he wondered.

"Oh my god," Duen cried, catching him as he fell. "You've been shot!"

"By cupid's arrow," Bohn sighed happily, as he drifted into unconsciousness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably tell, I am trying to emulate My Engineer: The Series levels of crack in this fic. Fair warning: it's only going to get more ridiculous from here.


	3. Chapter 3: The Smiling Doctor (TharaFrong)

Thara was on call when half of his university was wheeled in on stretchers. One second he was twiddling his thumbs, waiting for another sore stomach or bloody nose to come through the door, and the next the ER was a hurricane of movement. Red slashes appeared across the white, polished floor around him. Doctors and nurses called urgently to one another. Thara had never seen such madness. His heart leapt into his throat.

“What happened?” he asked, marching up to another med student.

“There was an attempted kidnapping. Masked men with guns.”

Thara rocked back on his heels, momentarily stunned. Then his training kicked in and he rushed to help wheel in the next stretcher.

“What do we have?”

“Bullet wound to the lower leg. Meant to incapacitate, not kill. Lost consciousness due to blood loss.”

It wasn’t the EMT who had spoken, but a blood-soaked man with his finger pressed to an earpiece.

“Private security?” Thara guessed.

“Bodyguard.”

Thara glanced down at the man on the gurney. He looked very small, slumped lifelessly, his face washed out and pale. There was blood in his hair.

“Is this your client? Charge?”

“Husband, I’m here,” another student puffed, appearing behind the bodyguard and collapsing against his side. This one looked exhausted and terrified but otherwise unharmed.

“I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside. I need to call the surgeon to take a look at this patient’s leg.”

“Frong,” the bodyguard corrected.

Thara nodded. “Frong’s leg.” He pushed up the leg of the student’s trousers, examining his calf gingerly. “I can’t find an exit wound. The bullet could still be inside of him.”

The bodyguard nodded and grabbed his client by the scruff of his neck, pulling him out into the hospital lobby.

Thara and three EMTS wheeled Frong into the ER and hoisted him onto a bed. The student didn’t stir. His cheeks looked gaunt and the pulse at his wrist was weak and thready. A nurse rushed over to assist.

“Has the surgeon been called?” Thara asked.

“He’s busy upstairs. One of the other shooting victims is in critical condition. They had to operate immediately.”

“How many victims are there, exactly?”

“Two came in with bullet wounds. Six with superficial injuries. More with shock.”

“Did they catch the people responsible?”

The nurse shrugged helplessly.

Thara cursed under his breath, examining the boy on the bed before him. He was suddenly struck with how young Frong looked. And how familiar.

Thara’s heart sank. “Can you make a call for me?”

“I told you, the surgeon is-“

“Not to the OR. To the oncology ward.”

The nurse glanced up at him in shock. “You think this patient has cancer?”

“No,” Thara sighed, getting to work tending to Frong’s wounds. “But his mother is upstairs as we speak.”

The nurse gaped at him for a moment before running back to the nurses’ station to make the call.

“W-Wa’s happening?”

Thara leaned back as Frong began to wake. “You’re in hospital. Can you tell me your name?”

“F-Frong.”

“Frong, my name is Doctor Thara.”

“Why am I here?” Frong demanded, struggling to raise himself onto his elbows. “What happened? Where’s King? Duen?”

Thara froze. “Did you just say Duen?”

***

Frong woke to a cacophony of beeping, shouting and running footsteps. He could hear two voices conversing lowly next to his bed but the fog over his brain was too thick to wade through. Images bombarded him like camera flashes.

_A group of blue shirts, hovering around the engineering building._

_Aren’t they too old to be students?_

_King turning to smile at his bodyguard._

_Bohn, idiot Bohn, lingering behind._

_Duen…_

_Gunshots. Screaming. Running._

_Two men gripping an unconscious King by the arms, a gun trained to his temple._

_King and his bodyguard being marched away at gunpoint._

_“Stop! No!”_

_A sharp, searing pain down his leg._

_A second gunshot._

_Duen screaming._

_“Bohn! Bohn! Wake up, Bohn!”_

“Frong, take a deep breath in. Hold for ten seconds. Yes, that’s it. Now release through your nose.”

Frong could feel his heartbeat in his ears, eyes and throat. Sweat poured down his forehead and into his unseeing eyes.

“And again. Hold it for ten seconds, remember?”

Finally, Frong felt his spirit return to his body. He blinked the tears from his eyes. The doctor was standing beside his bed, his gaze critical and assessing.

“Aren’t you a bit young to be my doctor?” he asked, before he could stop himself.

Doctor Thara smiled. “I see you’re back to normal. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot in the leg.”

“Good,” Thara nodded. “That’s how you should be feeling.”

Frong stared at him. “Are you sure you’re qualified?”

“I’m a fifth-year medical student.”

“A student?” Frong gaped, starting to rise. “Hello! Hello! Can someone find me a real doctor, please?”

“Don’t try to get up,” Thara said, holding his shoulders firmly against the bed.

With their faces so close together, Frong could see the smile lines around the doctor’s eyes.

“Now, you were saying something about Duen before? Do you know where he is? What happened to him?”

Frong waited until the doctor released him before answering. “Why should I tell you?”

“Duen’s my cousin. His parents will be worried.”

“He wasn’t hurt, as far as I know,” Frong explained. “But Bohn was…hurt right in front of him.”

“Bohn? The boy he brought to the hospital to get treated for a bruised nose?”

Frong shrugged. It jostled his leg and caused him to wince.

“Try not to move,” Thara said, refocusing on his patient.

There was a sudden flurry of activity in the doorway to the ER. He caught a passing nurse by the arm. “What’s going on?”

“The police are here. Apparently, there’s been a kidnapping. They think some of the patients here might know something.”

Frong remembered the look on King's face as he and his unconscious bodyguard were wrestled into the back of a van.

“I might know something,” Frong said.

Thara’s gaze was sharp. “You’re injured. You might need surgery. It can wait.”

“But if it will help them find…”

The decision was taken out of their hands as two police officers walked over to the bed. One was short, pretty and serious. The other was male and smiling. 

“Hello. My name is Ting Ting and this is my partner, Tang. Can you tell me your name?”

“Is now really the best time?” Thara asked. “He’s still in a lot of pain.”

“My name is Frong. I saw what happened.”

Frong felt a small spark of satisfaction at the flicker of frustration he saw cross the doctor’s face.

Tang smiled again, lifting his notebook. “Go ahead.”

“Start from the beginning,” Ting Ting said. “Spare no details.”


End file.
